


Expecting the Unexpected

by Baneberry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Horror, Collaboration, Consentacles, Crack, M/M, Mpreg, Oviposition, Pregnancy, Squicky, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:16:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baneberry/pseuds/Baneberry
Summary: Admittedly, the first time Quark showed Skids his tentacle modifications, Skids had been part horrified, part shocked, and also fell right out of the bed.





	Expecting the Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the collab I did with my friend, [robo-hunter-chaim](https://robo-hunter-chaim.tumblr.com/)! They drew [this wonderful picture](http://cresnoir.tumblr.com/post/159640827279/my-part-of-the-collab-fertility-symbols-for-all) (very NSFW), and I wrote a fic to it. Tadaaaa~!
> 
> There's really nothing else to say except _oh boy_...

Admittedly, the first time Quark showed Skids his tentacle modifications, Skids had been part horrified, part shocked. He even fell off the berth and nearly dislocated a spring joint. The fear and surprise quickly turned to guilt when he saw the exasperated expression on Quark’s face, the tentacles retracting a little back into their ports along his hips and groin.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Skids apologized, cringing. “I didn’t mean–-”

“It’s okay,” Quark interjected, raising a hand. He adjusted his glasses. “It’s the common reaction, even after I’ve explained everything. I’m mostly used to it.”

Skids still felt bad. “It’s not like they scare me or anything,” he said. He wasn’t lying, either. It was just… disarming. Sure, he’d met some bots who had tentacles, but nothing like Quark’s. Quark’s were less mechanical and more fluid and organic. They glowed a pale azure blue, almost ethereal. Actually, the more Skids looked at them, the more fascinated he became. “So, you got these from… Quintessons?”

“Right,” Quark replied. “Quintesson CNA is extremely rare in Cybertronians. Only one in one thousand bots carry the gene. And only one in about five thousand actually show any physical signs or… deformities.” The last word wasn’t so much Quark’s as it was the handful of bots who’d seen and studied these anomalies. For scientific reasons, they were intriguing.

Aesthetically and naturally? Not so much.

According to Quark, the Quintessons were a supposedly extinct race of techno-organic beings who helped tip the evolution of the Cybertronian species. Traces of their meddling lingered, with Quark as obvious evidence. These aliens also had tentacles, as it was an essential part of their design.

“But, that’s not all.”

Skids blinked. “You got five more optics or something?” he asked.

Quark was silent. He pushed and poked at his glasses for a long while, a clear sign of distress and/or uneasiness Skids was quick to pick up back in their time at Grindcore. “Hey,” Skids said, standing. He walked up to Quark, placing his hands on his shoulders. Ignored the temptation to touch the tentacles. “I’m not gonna judge. You asked me for a reason; I like to think you’ll trust me. But if you don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine, too.”

Quark smiled weakly. “It’s just… Well, I know you agreed to the interfacing, but I’m not… sure you may handle exactly what interfacing ensues…”

Skids beamed, jerking a thumb to his chest. “Try me!”

“It’s… Well, it only happens once every century or so,” Quark said, clearing his throat. He bridged his hands, browplates knitting together. “I call it the ’re-cycle.’ The ’re’ being a shortening of… ‘reproduction.’”

Skids stared, wide-eyed but curious.

“You might want to sit down for this,” Quark said, guiding Skids to the berth. He moved him around. “Except put your back to the wall this time. I don’t need you falling and breaking your head. Sigma knows I’m… probably going to do that with what I have to say next.”

And boy, was it a dozy. Skids was a smart bot. Sure, he was still recovering from his amnesia, but he was a brilliant strategist. He didn’t survive this long in a war spanning millions of years and dozens of galactic systems just by luck alone.

However, Skids did need Quark to explain everything again. Twice.

Quark, bless his spark, was patient, because it was true; he did trust Skids. Maybe the most out of everyone else on board the ship. Hell, maybe Skids was the only person he trusted period. And both made it clear there was no obligation to go through with anything, Skids wasn’t going to back down now. He loved Quark, and he loved new, exciting challenges and adventures.

Carrying a clutch of mutant eggs like an incubator in his abdominal chamber for a month–-what’s a bigger challenge than _that_?

Skids agreed in the end. As Quark told him, they could always use an artificial incubator, but it wouldn’t have the same affect. It would complicate things, apparently, as Quark learned from tragic experience in the past. It could be done, it would just be more risky than having a carrier. Quark couldn’t hold the eggs; the Quintesson CNA didn’t include an oven for the buns. Quark had to get them out within the next week, too, or suffer his own serious complications. He’d aborted eggs before, and it took months for his system to fully reboot and heal.

So Skids did it. And it wasn’t so bad–the conceiving part, that is. That was fun. Tentacles weren’t so scary anymore. Quark’s were just as soft and warm as they looked, and they were extremely flexible. It made for quite an enjoyable, new experience for Skids, and he was looking forward to the next time. The eggs were very small, about the size of a small ping pong ball; they went in easily enough via the tentacles also serving as ovipositors. Five in total, and he could feel them in his abdominal chamber. Nothing too annoying or bothersome, however. Just like being bloated and a little sore from consuming low-grade, expired energon.

Quark did warn that would change in the next couple weeks. The eggs would grow in size as the embryos developed. Skids’s abdomen had distended; fortunately, his dermal plating and the armor there was more malleable. Not only did he have a swollen belly that Whirl just could not stop mocking then proceed to touch awkwardly, but the eggs pushed against his cogs and innards, causing a fair amount of pain. It came and went, but Skids spent more time overcharging or lying on his berth than moving around and walking.

Quark was always there to comfort him. Offer him massages or medicine that would relieve the pain without damaging the eggs. He was stuck to Skids’s side whenever he wasn’t busy. Which wasn’t often, since he’d ask for an absence of leave for a while. It was an equally baffling and eye-opening conversation with the medical staff, science department, as well as central command.

Perceptor was curious, in his cold, calculating way. But he didn’t mind giving Quark the time off. Brainstorm was curious as well, in his eccentric, over-the-top way. He became just as bad as Whirl, constantly seeking the two out so he could watch them, observe Skids’s condition, and, of course, invade personal space by touching and even talking to his belly. When he became too much, Quark need only say one word and Brainstorm respectfully left.

The medical staff were more antsy. They’d never… delivered eggs from a Cybertronian before. This was a field none of them were experienced in. Quark reassured the team he’d be taking care of the delivery, but should anything happen to either Skids, the eggs, or himself, he’d bring them over immediately. Quark handed over his private medical files to Velocity to help her get an idea with what she might be working with.

Rodimus was completely psyched. Ultra Magnus was worried. But they both gave their blessings. So long as they did regular check-ups with Velocity to ensure their safety and the safety of the… eggs.

Quark explained the eggs hatched into seemingly regular Cybertronians. They started out small, growing and evolving quickly in a matter of months. Not too unlike human children, Magnus supposed. Quark did indeed have children out there from previous re-cycles; not as many, and he knew half of them had perished in the war, but…

“I didn’t want to, but it was for the best,” Quark explained, sitting beside Skids in the observatory. They were passing a large pink moon orbiting above a dead planet. “I didn’t want them growing up with the stigma… the fear that they were… _different_ … So I had to alter their memories. I knew a mnemosurgeon I could trust, and he preformed the operations. They were reprogrammed to believe they were MTOs with no connection to me. I couldn’t risk that, either.”

Skids frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be,” Quark exvented. The glow of the moon cast him in a warm, pink light. “I distanced myself from them, but I’m sure they did fine. I’m sure… at least one must have survived.” He looked away, optics dim. “I’m too afraid to look any of them up.”

Skids nodded. “Well,” he said, throwing an arm over Quark’s shoulders. He yanked the bot close, resting his head against the large scope. “These guys ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He pat his stomach, and winced. “Eesh. Hope they’re not so rough when they’re born.”

Quark smiled.

“I mean, times have changed. If we’re settling down with Decepticons, then we can–-oh.”

“Hmm?”

“… I’m leaking.”

Two hours later, Skids and Quark were in their shared hab-suite. Skids completely in labor. He had expected pain, of course, but not… not pleasure. It was weird. His chassis shook and rattled, and every inch of him ached and burned in arousal.

“That’s normal,” Quark said, digging inside his closet. “It’s all part of the process, to make the eggs easier to pass.”

“W-What are you doing?” Skids asked, stretched out on the berth. He cradled his large stomach, legs spread eagle. His channel was dilated and twitching, leaking copious amounts of lubricant. It wouldn’t be enough, he knew, and the idea both frightened and excited him. The latter because he knew what would.

“To complete the ritual, I’m… Look, I don’t believe in fantastical nonsense. I’m not a religious bot. But, well, I thought it might help you along. If anything, just amuse, maybe distract you from the contractions.” Quark stood, placing something on the top of his head. He turned. Skids’s optics widened.

They were… rabbit ears.

“In Vos, the petro-rabbit is a fertility symbol. Please don’t ask me why, I didn’t really want to look into it any further than need be,” Quark explained, adjusting his glasses.

Skids grinned. “I… I think it’s cut–-oh, Primus!”

Quark invented deeply, preparing himself. “Are you ready?” he asked, tentacles emerging from their nodules. They floated in the air, all pointed toward Skids with heat seeking sensors.

Skids panted, a chill of pleasure running down his spine the moment he saw those tentacles. “M-More than e-ever,” he tittered.

Quark nodded. He climbed on top of the slab, moving to sit behind Skids and pull him into his lap. His tentacles immediately went to work. Two wrapped around Skids’s stomach, above the clutch of bulging eggs. They remained loose, waiting. Skids held his legs open, but one tentacle slithered beneath his thigh to help him keep it in place. More pressed against his back, rubbing and caressing like Quark’s hands along his shoulders and helm.

“Ready?”

“Re–-ahh!”

A tentacle slithered over Skids’s hip, moving down between his legs. The edge lightly stroked his engorged folds, wiping away fluids. Skids keened; that touch alone sent him reeling, he could only imagine what actual penetration would do. The tentacle weaved about, as if studying Skids’s channel. Quark was watching intensely, mumbling coos and words of comfort.

The tentacle slowly pushed inside Skids’s channel. Skids threw his head back with a loud cry. Only a couple inches, too. It swirled around the mesh. Little by little, the tentacle slid in deeper, touching and stroking nodes that had Skids drooling and optics laced with coolant tears. When the tentacle reached clenched actuators, it tickled them for a moment. Loosened them up just enough for it to semi-force itself past them.

Skids shrieked. “P-Primus, h-holy!”

“I’m so sorry,” Quark whispered. “It’ll be over soon, I pro-–”

“N-No, it’s… it feels g-great!” Skids laughed and wheezed.

Quark tittered. “O-Okay, good.”

The tentacle undulated inside Skids, compressing and decompressing to widen the stubborn actuators. It didn’t take long, what with his system already so fully aroused, and now the tentacle was breaching his abdominal chambers. Skids’s optics bulged from his skull; he looked down, spotting a shift from the eggs. He could feel the tentacle inside him, so deep and wiggling around, going directly for the clutch.

Then, the tentacle stopped. Skids whimpered.

“Here… we… go.”

Skids swore he saw stars when the tentacle gave its first, hard thrust. He shrieked, smiling so wide his cheekplates hurt, tongue lolling from his mouth. “Primus! Primus!” he yelped. His body was rocking along with each of the tentacle’s pumps. Ruthless, but not very painful, and fast. “Oh my Primus, ah, P-Primus,” Skids heaved, looking down at the tentacle thrusting and jiggling and convulsing in his channel. Drool fell from his tongue hanging at the corner of his large grin. “I–I could d-do this f-forever!”

“That’s m-mostly the endorphins talking,” Quark coughed. He massaged Skids’s shoulders. “You’re doing great, though! Just a few more pushes, and you should be dilated enough to deliver.”

“Oooh, take your tiiiime,” Skids giggled, head flopping aside and bouncing. The tentacle smacked against his anterior node, and his optics rolled back. “I’m in nooooo h-hurryyyyy.”

Quark slid a hand over Skids’s belly, and the tentacles wrapped loosely around it. “Come on,” he whispered, stroking the bulge. He felt the tentacle thump against the rounded chamber. “Scans are clear. You’re getting close…”

“Yaaaay,” Skids snickered, high off his damn rocker. He fell back against Quark, sliding down the berth a little. His dim optics looked down at the tentacle again. “S-So cool,” he croaked, licking his lips, “y-you can put another one in if you l–” He went ramrod still, shocked. “O-Oh, Primus.”

“What?” Quark cried, tentacles jerking. “Are you okay!?”

“I’m gonna…” Skids hiccuped, wide-eyed. “Oooh… I’m-–”

Skids was absolutely still and quiet as overload hit him. His hips twitched and jerked, and the tentacle froze to allow the orgasm to pass. Even stuffed full, lubricant and transfluid managed to break free and form a reasonable sized puddle beneath him. With a sigh, he slouched back into Quark’s arms and extra appendages, groaning.

“Feeling better?”

Skids was too weak to talk. He gave a thumbs up. The tentacle pulled itself free, and Skids cried as his body spasmed from the sudden loss.

Quark smiled, excited. “It’s time,” he said. “You should feel the first contraction about–-”

“Scrap!” Skids snarled, jerking forward. The first egg was moving, sliding from his chamber into his channel. It certainly was no ping pong ball now. His mesh walls and circuits burned as the large object forced itself out with every full-body heave and push.

Quark took Skids’s hand, patting it with another. “You’re going to be okay. You’re doing so-–”

Skids screamed, tears falling free. Quark could see the top of the egg crowning. “Magnificent!” he squealed. “First one’s almost out! Let me help.”

The tentacles around Skids’s belly finally tightened, pushing down on the eggs and helping to loosen and jar them. Skids whimpered; with a little more wiggling and rocking, the first egg finally popped free, blue colored and slick-wet in fluids.

Skids stared at the thing, awed and horrified. He’d just delivered that. Quark took the egg, scanned it; satisfied, he set it aside. “All readings are stable,” he reassured, “let’s get the rest out now!”

It was, naturally, a laborious task. The second egg had been more stubborn. It took about five minutes before Skids could get it to move from its wedged spot. It took another minute to coax it out his channel when it crowned. Quark used a tentacle and a hand to help pull and pry the egg loose; once free, fluids gushed out in thick globs. Quark tsked the egg and sat it with its sibling.

The third egg came relatively easy. The extra lubrication helped it slide out, and Skids only needed to push it once or twice before it emerged.

The fourth was a handful again. Skids panted, digging his fingers so deep into his thighs he’d dented the plating. Quark stroked his headlight with a tentacle. “I know, I know,” he crooned, “but after this, only one more to go!”

“Hnn!” Skids groaned, grinding his teeth. He closed his optics and with a snarl, thrust his body into a wave forward and shifted the egg stuck in his channel halfway out. Before Quark could help remove it, Skids clenched down just enough to set it free. As with the other eggs, more and more fluid collected, and the bulge in his abdomen had gone down considerably.

“One more, Skids!” Quark exclaimed, smiling and resting a hand over Skids’s chestplate. His optics twinkled at the sight of the four beautiful, healthy eggs. “Just one more!”

Skids sobbed in between venting and heaving. “G-Gonna d-do this…” he grunted. The fifth and final egg was moving easily through his channel, just… taking its damn time. “C'moooon.” He wiggled and shifted back and forth, actuators clenching and unclenching along with him. The egg was close now, but hadn’t yet breached.

Quark kissed the top of Skids’s helm. “You’re doing beautifully,” he whispered.

Skids threw his head back with a screech, jolting up then slamming down. Finally, the egg emerged, momentarily suspended at the edge of his channel before rolling free on a wave of lubricant.

“You did it! You did it, Skids!” Quark cheered, throwing his arms around Skids and hugging him tight. Tentacles embraced him as well. “I’m so proud of you! Look at what you did! Isn’t that amazing!?” He gestured to the eggs.

Skids vented. “I…” He managed, just barely, to smile. “H-Hell yeah, i-it is.”

Quark nuzzled against Skids’s cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, “for everything.”

Skids chuckled dryly. He raised one half-numb hand and touched Quark’s face. “Any time,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed Quark softly.

* * *

Five healthy eggs, five healthy babies.

All of them microscope bots.

“That’s weird…” Skids mumbled, holding three of the little hatchlings. They were fast asleep in his arms. “I thought I’d get maybe one or two with my alt mode.”

“I think my CNA is recognized as the superior donor,” Quark explained. He bounced one half-slumbering baby on his knee. The fifth baby (the stubborn second egg) was stretched out on his other leg, mumbling in stasis. Aside from the fact they were all microscopes and looked identical to Quark, four were white and one was a very, very opal blue.

“I don’t mind or anything,” Skids said, smiling at the babies in his arms.

“But hey,” Quark chuckled, “there’s always next time.”

Skids blushed as Quark winked at him.

**Author's Note:**

> The Quintesson CNA idea all belongs to robo-hunter-chaim!


End file.
